


Unraveled

by DinerGuy



Category: Blindspot (TV)
Genre: Angst, But there are deaths so I figured you needed to be warned, Dark, Gen, How to Topple an Evil Plot That Has Been Years in the Making, None of our heroes die, Sandstorm - Freeform, What If story, Whump, alternatively titled, evil character povs, speculative fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-06 17:31:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10340607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DinerGuy/pseuds/DinerGuy
Summary: Kurt Weller was one of the most important pieces in Sandstorm’s plans, and Shepherd had spent countless hours and resources on his safety. But with one tragic mistake comes the threat of her entire plan falling apart. Will anyone survive the fallout?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, I thought too hard about these characters and ended up with a scenario that I had to write… I give up even trying not to at this point.
> 
> Also, I'm still not sure I should feel so satisfied that I can write from Shepherd's POV so easily.
> 
> Thanks go to Vickie and Julie for all of their help with plot musings and for tolerating my whining when I had trouble with a few particular scenes.
> 
> Standard disclaimers apply.

It was one of those warm spring days where the world is just coming out of its winter hibernation, and everything seems fresh and new. However, the scene brewing inside a nondescript home outside of the city was a direct contrast to the bright day outside.

“I’m telling you it’s worth it!” Shepherd barked, her eyes alight with angry energy. “We can’t risk them talking to the authorities.” 

The man on the other side of the table nodded. “Well, I’m not saying we shouldn’t do something…” Borden chose his words carefully. “What I’m suggesting is that we be cautious how much attention we bring to ourselves in doing so. If we are going to move forward with phase two, we must make certain that we don’t jeopardize our plan with paranoia.” 

“Are you calling me paranoid?” Shepherd bit out the question. 

Borden paused. “All I’m saying is maybe we need to take a step back and reevaluate things,” he said calmly. He was projecting as much confidence as he could but inwardly was starting to wonder just how far it was wise to push the woman right then. In all the years he had known her, she had always exuded an air of calculated intelligence, power, and control. Lately, however, he was growing less sure. “I know you’re concerned with the number of our suppliers who have been… compromised recently.”

“‘Compromised’? You mean arrested?” Her laugh was harsh. “Yes, I am!” Shepherd pushed up from the chair behind the desk and ran a hand through her hair. “We never used to have this regular of a problem!”

“The FBI _has_ been catching criminals for years,” he pointed out. “Perhaps it just so happens that the ones arrested recently have been those on whom you relied as well. Stop reading so much into things.”

Shepherd crossed her arms. “Oh, because I’m paranoid?”

Shaking his head, Borden stood as well. “You just need some air,” he told her. “I mean, you’ve been spending most of your time indoors working on the back end of things. Maybe you need to do something outside of the plotting and planning you have been?” he added.

There was a pause as she considered his question. Then she nodded. “You know, that might just be it. I did receive some information this morning that Olriksen let himself get caught on camera and that the Bureau started circulating his picture to transportation hubs.” She smiled coldly. “I think we need to set an example for our other suppliers.” She could tell that Borden wanted to say something in protest, and she put up a hand to stop him. “I’ll take care of this myself. Tell the men to ready enough material to bring down the warehouse. I’ll be leaving in ten minutes.” And then she turned and strode outside, leaving him no room to argue.

Borden watched her go. It didn’t matter what he thought; Shepherd had always had her own agenda and was going to follow it whether or not anyone else agreed. He just hoped she was right this time. If she was, their cause would be one step closer to completion by the end of the day.

* * *

“What’s going on? We have another tattoo?” Tasha asked, striding over with coffee cup in hand to join the rest of the team. Reade was leaning against one of the nearby desks, his long legs stretched out in front of him, and she hopped up to sit on the desktop next to her partner.

From where he was standing by the computer display at the front of the room, Kurt shook his head. “No tattoos at the moment. Patterson has a few she’s working to crack, but for once, everything is quiet on that front.”

“Okay, so…” Reade lifted his hands, palms up. “We get the day off?” he grinned.

Tasha snickered into her mug, and Jane’s mouth tilted up in a laugh.

“No,” Kurt replied, a bemused expression on his face. “We do still have jobs to do outside of working the tattoos. That’s why our team is going to take on this new case.” He nodded to Patterson, who was standing beside him with a tablet in her hands.

“Right,” the blonde agent said, nodding. She tapped a few commands into her tablet, then swiped upwards to cast an image of a burly, dark-haired man onto the large screen. “Meet Jan Olriksen,” she said, nodding to the picture. “We’ve had our eye on him for smuggling and weapons dealing for some time, but so far we haven’t been able to catch him in the act. He’s well-funded and is pretty impressive in his ability to stay off the grid.” She glanced around and shrugged. “What? I can admire someone’s skills even if I don’t approve of their specific use.”

Kurt shook his head as he continued Patterson’s train of thought. “Until now. We’ve received viable intel that Olriksen is going to be here, today, making a trade with a buyer.”

“So we catch him red-handed and bring him in?” Jane asked.

“Exactly.” Kurt nodded.

Swiping another image onto the monitor, this one of a group of four men clustered around several crates, Patterson spoke up again. “We believe he’ll have at least three of his guys with him. Olriksen seems to keep them close at all times. They’re all ex-special forces of one kind or another. So be careful,” she finished, looking around at the others.

“We’ll have backup, so we’re not going in alone,” Kurt told them. “But still, everyone stay alert, okay?” When they all nodded, Kurt clapped his hands together. “Okay, gear up. We leave in ten minutes.”

Half an hour later, Jane was pulling off of the interstate into a quiet, industrial area of the city. There were only a few vehicles passing on either side of the road, and in just a few more moments, they had reached the address Patterson had given them.

“Why is this place so quiet?” Kurt asked, looking around as Jane pulled into the rear parking lot of the rusty warehouse. For what was supposed to be an arms exchange between the supplier they were hunting and a customer, there was a distinct lack of activity around the building.

She shrugged. “Maybe they’re parked in the front?”

“That’s weird,” Kurt replied, shaking his head. “Why would they draw attention to themselves like that?”

Jane was still looking around as she turned the wheel to drive slowly to the front of the parking lot. “I still don’t see anyone… Do you think we got the wrong address?”

“Patterson, what do you think?” Kurt asked, knowing his teammate could hear him through the radio.

There was the rapid fire sound of typing from the other end of the line, then Patterson spoke up. _“Well, it’s possible… You’re at 8630 right now; there is an 8360 down the block. Might be worth a try; we could have the exact address wrong.”_

“Okay,” Kurt acknowledged. “Reade, Tasha, where are you?”

_“Stuck in traffic,”_ Reade replied. The blaring of car horns came through the line, interrupting whatever else he was about to say.

“Remember, no sirens,” Kurt ordered. “We can’t tip this guy off.

A growl from Tasha indicated just how frustrated she was with the whole situation, then Reade quipped, _“Tasha’s driving, so we’ll get there sooner rather than later.”_

Kurt chuckled, then put a hand against the door to brace himself against the bump of the curb as Jane drove back onto the street. She accelerated slowly as both she and Kurt scanned the street in search of anything suspicious. They both saw it at the same time. There was a dark van parked against the loading dock of an abandoned-looking warehouse a quarter mile down the road. Another van, this one white and dirty, was parked across the lot. Neither was running nor seemed to have any occupants.

Kurt looked over to exchange a look with Jane. “That must be them,” he said urgently.

She nodded in reply and pressed her foot down to increase their speed. Just then, a dark-clad figure darted from the back of the warehouse. There was something oddly familiar about the person, and the realization hit Kurt and Jane simultaneously.

“Was that Shepherd?” Jane exclaimed, leaning forward towards the dashboard to get a better look.

Kurt just grunted and threw his door open. Their vehicle was still moving, but it was a low enough rate of speed that he was able to hit the pavement in a roll and bounce back up in one smooth motion. He charged forwards towards the warehouse, his gaze fixated on the woman ahead of him.

“Kurt! Kurt, wait!” Jane slammed on the brakes, threw the SUV into park, and scrambled to undo her seatbelt.

_“He wouldn’t?”_ Patterson’s voice held a slight tone of panic as if she was repressing her worry over what her boss was doing for focusing on her job. _“I know he’s obsessed with finding Shepherd, but why would he…”_

Jane grunted. “One problem at a time, Patterson,” she said, flinging her door open and breaking into a run as she started after her partner.

* * *

It was Kurt.

Of all the people to show up at this warehouse at this moment in time, it had to be him.

If Shepherd had noticed him just a second before, she might have had time to stay her hand, to keep herself from sentencing him to certain death. But as it was, she could only watch with growing dread at what she knew was coming. The moment seemed to stretch for an eternity as her finger depressed the button. She wanted to call to him, to run and pull him from danger, but she had hardly finished the thought before the entire building erupted into a ball of fire.

Kurt had just reached the side of the building when the explosion went off, and he was thrown backward from the concussive force of the blast, airborne before he hit the pavement feet from the warehouse and skidded to a stop. Shepherd was still for just a moment, willing him to get up and away from the flames, but he didn’t.

Dropping the detonator, Shepherd leaped from her hiding place behind the van, panic lending speed to her feet as she ran to where Kurt was lying. Heat radiated from the building, but she ignored it; it was uncomfortable but still far enough away that immediate danger did not threaten. Her heart sank as she took in the sight before her. The man sprawled on the ground was completely still, his eyes closed and his arms and legs splayed out in different directions. There was a deep cut on his forehead and various smaller nicks where shrapnel from the blast had hit him. But that wasn’t what concerned her the most. Her attention was on the distinct lack of a rise and fall of his chest.

“Kurt?” Shepherd knelt next to him, frantically feeling for a pulse. He couldn’t be dead. She needed him! “Kurt, come on! Don’t do this to me!” The feeling in the pit of her stomach grew as she vainly pressed her fingers to his neck. “No, no, no! You aren’t even supposed to be here! Why were you here?” she cried, scrambling to find a pulse on his wrist, hoping that somehow she had just missed it before -- and then the stickiness seeping into her pant legs caught her attention. She dropped her gaze to the ground where she was kneeling, feeling her dread growing more and more as she took in the red puddle that was seeping from underneath Kurt’s still form.

A bullet whizzed past her ear, accompanied by a voice full of fury. “Shepherd!”

Shepherd would have recognized that voice anywhere. She looked up to see Remy rushing towards her, eyes spitting fire. Panic mixed with anger as the younger woman closed the distance between them. “What did you do?”

“It was an accident!” Shepherd scrambled to her feet. “Oh, Remy, I--”

But Remy shook her head firmly, making a valiant effort to bury her emotions even as she fell to her knees next to Kurt’s still form. “Kurt! Come on; open your eyes!” She pressed her fingers to his neck, gaze wide and searching his face for any sign of recognition. Getting nothing, she put her hands on his chest and leaned over him, frantically pumping in an attempt to resuscitate him. “Come _on!_ ” she repeated.

Shepherd put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but Remy jerked away and leaned down to breathe into Kurt’s airway. She made no further move to acknowledge Shepherd’s presence but just went back to pumping the prone man’s chest.

The sound of screeching tires caught Shepherd’s attention, and she suddenly realized just how close the rest of the FBI team must be. “Remy--” she began again, but the younger woman didn’t even look at her. After a brief moment’s further hesitation, Shepherd spun on her heel and fled to the van on the other side of the parking lot. She had to go, she reasoned to herself; there was work to be done, and she couldn’t let the FBI bring her in. Not now. Not when she still had so much to do.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that accompanied her, as much as she tried to ignore it. There would be hell to pay for what had just happened, and it was all on her.

* * *

When Kurt awoke, it was to a dimly lit room and an incessant beeping.

He lay still for just a moment, focusing on the ceiling above him and trying not to pass out again as it spun and weaved over his head. When he felt sufficiently in control of his faculties, he slowly moved his head to take in his surroundings. He immediately placed the digital beeping sound as coming from the heart monitor by his bed, and he briefly noted the other medical items, such as the IV bags above his head. Then he let his gaze drift farther down and around the room. It was nothing special, just a standard hospital room, but at least it was a private one.

Before he could process anything further, a low voice came from beside him. “Kurt?”

Kurt shifted to look to his left, where Jane was smiling in relief at him. “Hey,” he managed to croak out, grimacing at the effort even that one word had taken.

“Hey yourself,” she returned. She reached for something out of his sightline, then her hand reappeared with a cup in it. “Sorry, the doctor said I could only give you a few ice chips when you first woke up.” She tilted several into his mouth, then put the cup down. “How are you feeling?” she asked, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from her face.

“Oh you know, like I got hit by a train,” Kurt told her.

She smirked. “Well, that’s to be expected.” Then her smile fell. “We were so worried. It--”

Any further conversation was interrupted by the creak of the door being pushed open. An older, gray-haired doctor stuck his head in and raised an eyebrow at Jane.

She turned back to Kurt and cleared her throat. “Sorry; they said to call as soon as you were awake,” she told him, lifting her hand to wave the device with the call button that was attached to the hospital bed. “They need to check you out. I’ll go get the others while they do.” She paused just long enough to squeeze his hand, and a flicker crossed her face. “I’m… I’m glad you’re back,” was all she said before she ducked past the doctor.

After a flurry of activity with more doctors and prodding and questions and the promise of some really good drugs in just a few moments, Kurt’s team was allowed in on the condition that he not get excited. The last nurse to leave wagged a stern finger at everyone in the room and told them that if she even heard what _sounded_ like an accelerated heart beat on the monitor, she would come back and kick them all out for the night.

Reade and Tasha immediately took the couch against the wall while Patterson climbed onto the chair next to the bed and Jane chose a seat nearer to the door. The postures of his teammates were not lost on Kurt, and he looked between the four of them, shaking his head.

“I appreciate all of the concern, but I’m fine, guys. It’s not like Shepherd tried to kill me on purpose; I’m sure she’s not going to send anyone to finish me off.”

They exchanged glances, prompting a furrowed brow from Kurt. “What?” he asked. “What are you not telling me?” He moved to push himself up into a sitting position, then winced as the action caused pain to shoot through his head.

Jane was quick to jump up and put a hand on his chest. “Stay put,” she ordered sternly. “You died; it’s going to take some time to recover.”

He coughed. “Died?”

“Shh,” Patterson exclaimed, waved her hands in the air. She darted a meaningful look at the heart monitor display, which was already starting to show an elevated rate.

Kurt drilled a look at each of the team. He was more concerned with getting an answer than he was in keeping his excitement level down at the moment. “What do you mean ‘died’?” The lack of the word ‘almost’ was not lost on him, but it was taking enough effort just to formulate what he had managed to get out. He figured that his teammates would understand what he meant.

“She means ‘died,’” Tasha spoke up. “As in, you quit breathing and had no pulse.” She raised an eyebrow, although the look she leveled at him was one of pure relief.

He must have appeared surprised at that because Reade nodded and leaned in. “You had us worried, man,” the other man said. “If it wasn’t for Jane… the medics said you might not be here if she hadn’t kept up CPR as long as she did. You’re lucky the oxygen loss didn’t affect your brain.”

“Did we at least get Shepherd?” Kurt wanted to know.

“No,” Reade replied grimly. He sighed. “If Tasha and I hadn’t been stuck in that traffic…”

“Hey,” Kurt interrupted. He was trying to sound stern, but his voice came out much weaker than he’d intended. “Hey, this isn’t your fault. This is no one’s fault, okay?” He looked around at the other four. “We’ll get her; don’t worry. How soon did they say I could leave?”

“What?” Patterson yelped. “Weller, you’re in no shape to leave this bed for _at least_ a week!”

Kurt frowned. “But Shepherd’s out there.” That was all the reason he needed; he most certainly was not staying in this hospital for any longer than a day or two. “I feel fine.”

Four pairs of eyebrows went up at that.

“Uh, Kurt,” Jane began, “even if you do get released -- and that’s a big if -- you can’t go back to the FBI.”

Kurt blinked. “What?”

The others exchanged glances, then Patterson spoke up. “They… decided it was best if Sandstorm thinks you died.”

“What?” Kurt knew he was repeating that word an awful lot, but nothing was making sense at the moment.

Jane nodded. “You’re such an integral part of whatever Shepherd has planned. I saw her face at the warehouse, Kurt. She thought she had killed you.” She sighed, and her voice softened. “And she did, technically,” she added

“Anyway,” Tasha continued, “the idea is that we can force Sandstorm’s hand somehow if they think their golden boy is out of the picture completely.”

Kurt grunted in displeasure. “So I’m just supposed to sit around and wait?”

“Basically, yes,” Reade responded. “Most of your surgical team are agents with medical experience and the few who aren’t have been sworn to absolute secrecy.”

Jane took a deep breath before adding, “The funeral is tomorrow. You’ll be given full honors.”

“Wait.” Kurt shook his head emphatically, and the others looked concernedly at the heart monitor as it began speeding up. “Does Sarah know?”

“Kurt…”

“Does my sister think I died?” he insisted. “Sawyer?”

Patterson looked like she was about to cry, which was all the answer he needed.

“No! No, my family has been through enough. They are not going to mourn a death that did not even happen!” Before any of the others could interject, another thought hit him and his eyes grew wide. “Oh no… Allie!” he exclaimed. The heart monitor started its beeping again, rising quickly in pitch and volume. “She can’t find out! The baby…”

If it was possible, Patterson’s face grew even paler. “The shock won’t be good for either of them!” Her words started to run together in one long sentence of panic. “Oh, I hope she hasn’t heard -- I mean, I understand what we’re trying to do with the whole ‘let’s pretend you actually died so we can take down Sandstorm’ thing, but we can’t just let Allie find out you died and have to go through all of that, because I mean, what if -- No, I’m not calming down, Jane, this is an emergency!” she interrupted herself as Jane put a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s okay, Patterson,” Jane said gently, grinning when the others looked at her in confusion.

Kurt coughed. His accelerated heart rate was combining with his meds to the point where he felt like he was about to pass out, but concern for his family overrode any other impulses for the moment. “But this is Allie we’re talking about. And _my_ daughter.”

“Right,” Jane said simply. “Which is why I already handled it.”

“What?” Patterson ventured, even as her eyes lit up hopefully.

Shrugging, Jane looked between Patterson and Kurt as she explained. “Well, I know Allie of all people is trustworthy, and I wasn’t risking her or the baby over a cover story.”

“Isn’t that against orders?” Kurt asked, although his tone and expression told Jane his question was much more one of impressed clarification than protest.

“You said it yourself, Kurt; this is Allie we’re talking about. She understood, and she agreed to act appropriately shocked and heartbroken when she gets the official call.” She grinned. “I called her as soon as they decided on this plan of theirs, while you were still in surgery.”

Patterson leaped up from the couch and threw her arms around Jane. “Oh, I’m so happy!”

“Shh, Patterson,” Tasha chided, even while a smile danced at the corners of her mouth. “Someone might not believe he’s dead if you go around celebrating.”

Smirking mischievously, Patterson threw a look at the door. “And if I make too much noise, that nurse will probably come kick us out.”

The others chuckled in agreement, even as Jane threw Kurt a meaningful look. “What do you want to bet this is going to throw a wrench in Sandstorm’s plans more than anything else we’ve ever done?”

* * *

Something was wrong. Borden knew it as soon as he glanced out of the window and saw Shepherd stalking across the driveway. His years of experience as a psychologist gave him a pretty good sense of when someone wasn’t acting as they should be. And there was definitely something off with Shepherd right now. Granted, she had always been slightly… off all along, but there was a method to her madness, and right now, it wasn’t there.

There was a commotion of raised voices and slamming doors, and Borden quickly strode to the doorway to hear more clearly what was going on downstairs. Over the edge of the railing, he could see Shepherd pacing back and forth in the small entrance of the house, barking orders at a young man standing in front of her. “I want you to find out what hospital he’s been taken to! I don’t care how you find out, just find out. Call me as soon as you know his prognosis, and if they can’t tell you right away, you wait there until they can.” She paused and leaned forward threateningly. “I don’t want to hear from you until you can tell me exactly when Kurt Weller will be released to go home, you got that?”

The man nodded wordlessly.

“Good. Now go!” she snapped.

He didn’t have to be told twice but turned for the door as soon as he had been dismissed. After it swung shut behind him, Shepherd ran a hand through her hair and turned around, catching sight of Borden as he descended the stairs behind her.

“Everything all right?” he asked. He knew very well that it wasn’t, but he was curious to see how she would reply.

She just shook her head. “It’ll be fine,” was all she said before striding towards the door at the far end of the room

“Hey!” he called, keeping his voice soft and non-confrontational but still putting enough insistence behind his words that the woman couldn’t ignore him. “What is going on?” he asked. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the staircase, raising an eyebrow as he watched her.

Her shoulders slumped for just a fraction of a second, then she straightened them and turned back to face him. “I’m handling it.”

“Mhm. Because that’s not what I heard.”

A flicker of a frown crossed her face, then she sighed. “Kurt Weller was taken to the hospital this afternoon.”

Borden nodded slowly. “And you feel responsible?”

“Oh, don’t pull your psychobabble crap on me,” Shepherd growled. “I am not in the mood.”

“So you do feel responsible.”

There was a pause as she regarded him across the room. The only sound that could be heard in the interval was that of tires crunching on gravel outside of the house. “Is this connected to your taking care of the suppliers that you mentioned earlier?” he persisted.

When she finally spoke again, Borden could hear a slight difference in her tone; it wasn’t much, but it was there -- and it worried him. “How was I supposed to know he’d be there? We didn’t create any tattoos that would point to Olriksen! There was no reason for him to have been at that warehouse!”

A sinking feeling was growing in Borden’s stomach as he started to piece the situation together. “What happened?”

“I rigged the place to blow after I had left the exchange,” Shepherd answered. “And… he ran past just before it blew.”

Even though Borden was fully expecting the worst, he felt something drop inside of his gut at the news. And not so much because he particularly cared about Weller but because he cared about Shepherd’s plan. Weller was a key piece -- indeed, Shepherd might say _the_ key piece -- in their plans and his being dead would change everything. Borden had devoted so much of his life to this plan of Shepherd’s. She had convinced him that he could make America pay for the airstrike that killed his wife, along with so many other injustices. The idea that it now might dissolve into smoke was something he was not going to sit by and let happen. “Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Weller’s been through rough times before. He’s always pulled through, though, right? He’s tough; he’ll be fine.”

Shepherd shook her head, slowly at first, then faster as she repeated the gesture. “He was dead, Robert,” she told him flatly. “I saw the look on her face…”

“Whose face?” Borden pushed back the panic that wanted to invade his mind. He couldn’t let himself get carried away, not now. There was too much at stake. As leaders, both he and Shepherd needed to keep their wits about them.

“Remy. She was there… She…” Shepherd trailed off, lost in the thought of something.

Borden was willing to bet it had to do with the younger woman’s response to finding Weller injured -- or worse -- from Shepherd’s actions. “Okay, so she found Weller? She’ll get him the help he needs, right? Just like before. We just need to concentrate on the plan.” He gestured towards the front door. “Tompkins will report in from the hospital that Weller is expected to recover, and everything will be fine.”

There was another pause as Shepherd eyed him, then she shrugged a shoulder and turned away. “Let’s hope you’re right,” she said.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... it got real dark, real fast. I know. *hides*

Borden was not right.

It had been an afternoon filled with pacing and stewing, and when the call had finally come, Tompkins had kept hedging around whatever news he had. She’d finally snapped at him to just spit it out, and now the words from the other end of the line rang through her head: “They said he didn’t survive the surgery. The doctors tried their best, but his heart stopped for too long. They say it was a combination of internal injuries and a lack of oxygen to his brain… Shepherd, Kurt Weller is dead.”

Apparently Weller’s team was heartbroken. The three agents who had been waiting for news in the hospital waiting room had left quite shaken, with the blonde shedding tears and the others looking ready to kill whoever looked at them the wrong way. According to Tompkins, even Remy had been holding back tears. Shepherd supposed that after everything the younger woman had experienced alongside Weller and the rest of the FBI team, some emotional connections were to be expected. A part of Shepherd felt satisfaction at the idea that her daughter was finally understanding the sacrifices that Shepherd herself had made.

Sacrifices indeed… Shepherd felt her anger rising at the realization that there was no undoing this. She couldn’t simply make a deal or move some assets around to get someone out of trouble. This was as final as anything got. There was no undo button for what had happened that morning. She stood still for a moment, seething, then let out a primal yell of anger. She swept a hand across the desk in front of her, clearing off every piece of paper and sending a lamp crashing to the floor in an explosion of glass and sparks. That didn’t satisfy the rage she felt burning inside, and she grabbed a paperweight that had just missed falling from the desktop. She pulled her arm back and let the glass orb fly across the room, where it hit the wall next to the doorframe just as the door itself swung open.

The man walking in ducked reflexively as the heavy object dented the drywall next to his head. “Whoa!” Borden exclaimed in surprise, putting up his hands as he slowly straightened. “No need to take my head off.”

She ran her hands through her hair, pausing with both hands on her head to growl out a sigh of frustration. “It’s all over!”

“What? Wait just a moment. Come on; calm down,” Borden reasoned. “Take a breath.”

Shepherd lowered her hands to point a finger at him. “Oh don’t you tell me what to do! Kurt Weller is dead!” She had the urge to throw something else, to hear a solid impact. Nothing was within immediate reach, so she settled for slamming a fist on the desktop to accentuate each word. “Kurt. Weller. Is. _Dead!_ ”

The look on his face told her this was a surprise to Borden, but he just took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay… You’re upset; I understand.” He took a step forward. “I know what it’s like to lose everything you’ve worked for your whole life, but trust me, this isn’t the end.”

Her upper lip curled in a snarl. “You have no idea what I’m feeling right now. This is not one bombed-out hospital. Weller was everything to us.”

She could tell she’d struck a nerve, but he just took a deep breath and pushed on. “This plan is bigger than one man. We can rework the plan and keep going. Come on; it’ll just take some thinking, but we can figure this out. This doesn’t have to mean the end of everything we’ve built.”

“Do you see what is happening?” she demanded, gesturing widely with her arms. “I saw Weller's potential when he was just a kid at that school. I groomed him for years! I influenced his every step! And I worked so hard to keep him in New York because I saw what he could do for us! And now he’s gone! All because Olriksen couldn’t keep his nose clean and forced my hand!” Then she caught the look on Borden’s face. “What?” she growled.

He blinked. “Well, I think…” he paused as if trying to find the right words. “Maybe you need to take a little time to regroup, and then we can plan where to go from here.” He was using that infernal calm psychologist voice on her, and Shepherd was not impressed. “The last thing you want is for all of this to the undoing of what we’ve been working towards.”

“All of what?” Shepherd’s eyes narrowed. “Are you saying I’m the reason our cause will fail?”

“What? No, that is not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying, Robert?” she spat.

He took an involuntary step backward even as he put his hands up in a placating gesture. “I know that things are going to change now that we don’t have Weller, but all we have to do is regroup and get back on track.”

The worry on his face made her angrier the more she looked at it. Why was he blaming her? It wasn’t as if she had purposefully set out to kill Kurt Weller; Borden should know that more than anyone else, for as long as he had been with her. Of anyone, he should understand! But yet here he was… pitying her. She didn’t need his pity.

“Maybe a small break would be best?” he was suggesting when she turned her attention back to him. “I can help with the daily operations while you gather your thoughts, and then we can move forward from there.”

Was he suggesting that he replace her? Of all the… Shepherd frowned. She did not need replacing. How dare he even think that. “You think you’re more capable of leading than I am?” she asked, her voice low with barely-contained anger. “I found you. You were nothing but a broken doctor with no home and no family, about to fall apart. I gave your life meaning again, and this is how you repay me? Trying to unseat me?”

Borden blinked, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he processed her words. “No one is suggesting that,” he replied, his voice cracking ever so slightly.

“But you just did!” Her mind was whirling now, and she grabbed the edge of the desk to steady herself as she tried to sort through it all. Everything was happening so fast. First Olriksen had messed up, and she had been forced to take care of him, but in the process, she had also killed Kurt Weller. She still had no idea why the agent had even been at that warehouse in the first place, but he had been, and now she had to deal with the fact that he was gone because of her. And on top of that, now her own team didn’t even trust her, leading to Borden of all people trying to usurp her position. She glared across the room at him. If he even so much as tried to pull anything on her…

He straightened his shoulders and glared at her briefly. “I’ll just be outside if you happen to need me,” he bit out. Then he turned on his heel and stalked out of the room with one last glance at the damaged wall beside him. 

* * *

Borden purposefully left Shepherd alone for the rest of the day. He needed the time to cool down and get past what she had thrown in his face during her outburst that afternoon. Even though he knew that she was just angry with herself and dealt with it by lashing out, there was still a part of him that had been deeply hurt by her words. Rather than saying or doing something that he would later regret, Borden chose to stay away. And even once they started talking again, he found himself constantly looking for projects and tasks that would keep him far away from the woman. It wasn’t difficult; there were always things to oversee and errands to run that kept him busy. She didn’t seem to mind either. In fact, the fact that she didn’t mind worried him.

Over the next week that followed Shepherd’s initial outburst, Borden started noticing hints that the others were growing worried about their leader. It was nothing specific at first, just snatches of whispers and sideways glances. His psychologist’s brain was in full gear as he started to pay more attention to the nuances of the others’ behavior as they witnessed Shepherd’s downward spiral towards complete insanity. Judging from everyone's reactions, the majority were growing more and more concerned over their leader’s actions, and no one knew what that would mean for their plan. Any hope that Borden had of things getting back to normal went out of the window as Shepherd’s erratic behavior continued to increase.

Borden had initially purposed to ignore Shepherd’s anger at losing Weller until it subsided and they could all get back to business. After all, grief was something that took time to work past. However, it soon became evident that the mutterings would not just blow over. The men and women were usually more than happy to do whatever job they had been given, all with the knowledge that they were helping to build the cause that would topple the evil that was America. But now, Borden was starting to pick up on the disillusionment that was spreading amongst his compatriots.

The day of Weller’s funeral was incredibly tense. Shepherd ordered several of her people to attend the service, giving them orders to report everything back to her. Borden was halfway tempted to go himself, but he knew that he would be immediately recognized if he dared show his face around any FBI agents. He had become a part of Weller's team to spy on them and help guide Remy in recovering the memories that she needed; he had known that was his only purpose, but there was still a tiny part of him that felt attached to those people. He was human after all; he had emotions that still got the better of him from time to time, no matter how much he thought he had them under control. He squelched it immediately, but he still felt a pang at the image of Weller lying in a casket and what he knew as a doctor the other team members were feeling. Especially Patterson… But then he shook his head and went back to his current responsibilities. He could not let himself go down the same path as Shepherd seemed to be. At least one of them had to keep things going.

As his concern grew, he tried to busy himself so as not to be distracted by how Shepherd seemed to be ruining everything towards which they had been working for years. And at first, it appeared he was succeeding at it, but then, exactly a week to the day that Shepherd had gone to meet Olriksen, Borden was retrieving something from his car when he accidentally dropped his phone. It hit the carpet, and he bent down to retrieve it. The car door shut behind him once he took his hand from the handle, but he didn’t think anything of it at first. His hand closed around the device, and he was just about to straighten back up when a man’s voice reached his ears.

_“What, you think she’s officially lost it?”_

Instinctively, Borden looked around, then realized the conversation was occurring outside the SUV and the question wasn’t meant for him. He didn’t particularly mean to eavesdrop, but it was hard to ignore the words when they were so clearly carrying through the window that was sitting half-opened.

 _“Shh. Is it safe?”_ came a second voice.

_“Yeah, no one else is around.”_

_“Okay. Look, yes, I’m worried. How much have we given to this whole cause? A lot, right? Well apparently something went wrong, and now I’m not so sure it’s the best option to stick it out here.”_

_“Calm down; I’m sure it’s not that bad.”_

_“Ha. Have you seen her lately? Wrigley said she called him in there to do something for her and that the place is a mess. He said there’s broken stuff all over, like she’s been throwing it, and she’s acting really insane.”_

_“To be fair, she’s never really seemed completely sane in the first place.”_

_“I’ll give you that. But seriously, man, something has gone wrong, and I don’t think she’s going to recover from it. I’ve been talking to some of the others, and they agree.”_

_“So… what does this mean?”_

_“It means we might just need to move on to something that’s going to actually pay off. I don’t know about you, but we don’t think that staying around here is going to accomplish what we once thought it would.”_

On any other day, Borden would have identified who the two men were and then told Shepherd so she could make an example of them to the others. There was no room for any kind of discontent in the ranks. They had to be united against their common foe. However, something about what they were saying struck a chord inside of him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Of course, he knew why. It was because he was having similar thoughts about his leader. He had never followed her blindly, but he had always had complete trust in what she was doing. Now… well, now, he wasn’t quite so sure.

The men outside moved on, taking their conversation with him, but their words remained behind. Borden sat staring at nothing for a few moments before he arrived at a decision. He sat up and climbed out of the vehicle, then strode purposefully back to the house. Shepherd needed to know just how badly she was endangering what they had all given their lives to accomplish.

When he crossed the threshold, he could already hear her raised voice. She was yelling at someone, and Borden swallowed involuntarily. He knew very well that there could be a repeat of what had happened between them that first morning, but he steeled himself for the possibility. So what if he had to deal with the dredging up of past tragedy? If him going through that would save their work, then that was just another in the long line of sacrifices he had made for the cause.

Not bothering to knock, he pushed the door open and walked inside. The poor young man at whom Shepherd was screaming looked like he wanted to sink through the floor and disappear. Both of them paused to look over when the door squeaked open, with Shepherd glaring daggers at the interruption and the man as relieved as Borden had ever seen anyone.

“We need to talk,” Borden said, giving Shepherd a hard look. “Now.”

She waved her hand at the other man in the room, who wasted no time in scrambling past Borden and nearly running down the hall. “What?” she demanded.

He shut the door behind him and crossed his arms. “The men are getting worried.”

Snorting a laugh of derision, she rolled her eyes. “‘The men’? Come on, Borden; you know I’ve never cared what others think.”

“Yes, well,” he told her, “you might want to this time. They’re talking about leaving."

Her eyes flashed, and she took a step forward. “Who is? Tell me! I’ll make them regret ever saying such a--”

“No, you don’t understand,” he interrupted. “It’s not just one or two. I’d say the majority of your followers are starting to think that you can’t deliver what you’ve promised them.” That was enough to give her pause, and he pressed on. “Trust me; you are going to lose our entire war off of the fact that no one trusts you anymore.”

“So you don’t trust me either.” It was a statement more than it was a question, and the rise her tone was starting to take was not lost on Borden.

He shrugged. “Can you blame any of us? You have to admit that you haven’t been… quite all here the past week.” He tried to tread lightly, knowing that he was going to have to choose his words carefully in this confrontation. He needed her to snap out of this mood into which she seemed to have fallen, not snap completely.

Unfortunately, his words seemed to have the opposite effect than he had intended. _“What?”_ she grit out, her tone dark with rage.

“You can’t keep going like this,” he told her. “I know you’re upset over Kurt Weller, but we need you!”

She moved around the desk to close the distance between them. If looks could kill, Borden knew he would have been long-since dead and buried. “You seem like you don’t believe in me anymore.” Her tone was low, but not in a calm way. It was the extreme one reached after they had become so angry that they had moved past a raised voice.

Borden paused, searching for the right words. “Honestly, you’re going to lose your fight if you keep this up. The others want to be on the side of someone who is fighting for them, not who is sinking into her own pit of despair.”

“Oh, here we go again!” she snapped. “Do you really think you can threaten me and get away with it?” She closed the distance even further, leaning in threateningly. “You know what I do to people who try to take things from me.” The light in her eyes was frighteningly bright, and her cheeks were flushed with fury.

They were nearly at the point of no return, and Borden knew it. He was wracking his brain for the best approach to calm her from this state of territorial furor back to the leader they needed her to be. Honestly, if he thought about it, he wasn’t averse to the idea of taking over from Shepherd, but he wasn’t about to tell her that at the moment. He supposed it might not hurt to explore the possibility with the men in secret later; if he could keep them on board with the cause by becoming their leader, then maybe a mutiny wasn’t the worst idea in the world…

In the pause that hung between them, something suddenly snapped in Shepherd’s expression. Her face hardened even further, and her eyes narrowed. “You’ve been plotting this all along, haven’t you? You want to take everything I’ve built and leave me with nothing! Nothing!” She was nearly shrieking now, and Borden could detect a tremble of rage in her hands as she clenched them at her sides.

Borden put his hands up in what he hoped was a placating gesture. “Shepherd, I--”

He didn’t even see the gun until he heard the shot, and by then, it was too late to do anything.

The sound was still ringing in his ears when his legs gave out. No pain accompanied it, so he was surprised when he suddenly found himself on the floor, looking up at the ceiling. He glanced down to find his shirt was quickly growing wet with blood, and he looked back up to frown in confusion at Shepherd.

Her satisfied smile as she squeezed the trigger again was the last thing he ever saw.

 

* * *

This was bad.

This was very bad.

This was very very bad.

Shepherd paced the room, running her hands through her hair as she crossed the short distance from one wall to another and then turning to walk it again.

Who was she to trust now? She had thought she could trust Borden, and for years she had done just that. She had relied on him to be her right hand many times, ever since she had recruited him years before. And he had proved himself over and over, from carrying out dangerous missions to volunteering to infiltrate the FBI in order to keep an eye on Kurt Weller and his team. And Borden had done such a good job of it too, even overriding his emotions when he had started developing feelings for Patterson. Yet all it took was one mistake on her part for the man to no longer trust her. After everything he had seen her do for the cause -- after everything he had done for the cause -- he would decide to simply oust her and take the control for himself?

Shepherd shook her head. The nerve of him to even suggest anyone in her ranks would mistrust her judgment. They knew she was devoted to overthrowing the evil that was America; she would never risk that for a pity party. It was a completely ludicrous suggestion. Borden deserved what he had gotten.

At the thought of the man, she glanced back towards the door, realizing with distracted surprise that she still needed to deal with the body that was cluttering up her office. She crossed to the door, planning to grab the first person she saw to clean up the mess. But there was no one there. And when she descended the stairs, she frowned with the realization that there was not a soul in sight.

As much as she wanted to tell herself that it was just because of the late hour and because of the various jobs that the men had been assigned to complete, the quiet nagged at her. She threw the front door open, and her stomach dropped even further at the absence of three-quarters of the vehicles that had previously been parked between the house and the barn a dozen yards away. She could hear Borden’s voice in the back of her head, reiterating the idea that no one trusted her any longer and telling her they would all be better off without her in command. With a growl, Shepherd kicked the door frame in frustration. She knew whose fault this was -- and it wasn’t hers.

This was all Remy’s fault.

If Remy had done as she was supposed to, none of this would have happened. Everything would be okay if Remy had just stuck to the plan they had crafted. All the people their cause had lost would still be in its ranks, helping to carry out their mission. But no, Remy couldn’t do something as simple as that. She had to go and join the enemy, and even though Shepherd and the others had done all they could to bring her back into the fold, it hadn’t been enough. Remy had shaken every effort to save her and was now fighting against them.

And it wasn’t just that they had lost Remy to the FBI. That would have been bad enough, but no. Remy had caused them to lose good men in the process. Oscar had been killed, although the man had always had such a soft spot for Remy… Shepherd supposed she shouldn’t have been too surprised at that one. But Roman! Remy’s own brother! He hadn’t died, but he might as well have, for with his memory wiped and his recovery being influenced by this weaker version of Remy and the FBI, he was as good as dead. If Remy hadn’t lost her mind to the enemy, then even Borden would still be alive. But she had, and he wasn’t.

The entire cause was crumbling, and it was all Remy’s fault.

Shepherd’s expression hardened. She couldn’t let Remy continue to ruin things any longer. It didn’t matter that they were family; Remy had all but thrown that back in her face already. Sacrifices had to be made by everyone involved in this crusade, and as much as Shepherd had already given, she was being called upon to give yet one more. She put a hand to her hip where her pistol sat tucked into its holster and smiled grimly. If she hurried, she could put this whole thing behind her before the evening was gone.

Then maybe she could recover her army and move on.

* * *

It had been less than a day since the team had smuggled Kurt into Jane’s safe house, but it felt like much longer. Jane had lost track of the number of times she’d had to tell the man to sit back down, and no, he couldn’t go to work yet. Also, no, he could not work from the house because, for one, it was illegal to remove case files from the offices, and two, he was supposed to be resting.

She was relieved when he’d finally dozed off on the couch, seemingly exhausted from arguing the details of what the doctors actually meant by no excitement. Jane would have rathered him sleep in the bed, but at least he wasn’t running around chasing down bad guys for the moment. With Kurt, she had to take what she could get. He would probably start back in on trying to convince her that he could sneak into the FBI offices as soon as he woke up again.

After watching the rise and fall of his chest for a few moments, Jane was satisfied that Kurt was indeed sound asleep. She smiled lightly and shook her head, then headed for the bedroom. She felt a bit like a mother sneaking a shower while her baby was napping, and she supposed she was at the moment. Reade and Zapata were outside on the off chance that Kurt got up and tried to sneak out, although Jane doubted the man would seriously be able to do so. Kurt did have a track record of ignoring doctors’ advice and pushing himself far beyond normal human endurance, but this time, Jane doubted even Kurt Weller would be able to resume work like nothing had happened. His body was going to need some serious recovery time.

Ten minutes later, Jane was toweling her hair when she heard a muffled thud. She froze, straining her ears for anything further, then relaxed when no other sounds could be heard. It was probably just the wind outside, she decided. But then, just as she reached for her hairbrush, there was a decidedly human footstep on the staircase. There was no way for Kurt to have climbed the stairs, and even if he could have physically, he had no reason to do so. The thought that he had gone to check out the noise she had heard a few moments before occurred to her, but something in her gut told her this was much more serious. They had made every effort to ensure Sandstorm thought that Shepherd had killed Kurt at that warehouse, but the possibility that the truth had somehow been leaked was twisting her stomach into knots even as she snatched her sidearm from the counter and threw open the bathroom door.

She paused to listen for just a moment, but the footsteps had suddenly ceased. This did nothing to quell her fears. If anything, they multiplied in the silence. Jane moved forward as quickly as she could while still being cautious; she held her weapon out in front of her, half-expecting someone to be waiting just on the other side of the doorframe. No one was, however, and she proceeded quietly, her bare feet hardly making a sound on the floor. When Jane rounded the corner into the living room, Jane paused in mid-stride.

She had half-expected to see Shepherd or one of the woman’s cronies coming to finish Kurt off. After all, that was one of their fears, even though Sandstorm’s end game had seemed to need him alive. With that woman, no one knew what was going to happen next. And yet, the sight of Shepherd standing in the middle of the room, stock-still and staring at the man on the couch, gave Jane pause and set worry coursing through her veins. She stepped forward, raising her weapon to level it with the back of the other woman’s head. But just before she growled out an order to turn around, the muttering met her ears.

“No no no no no. This can’t be real. You… you can’t be real. I needed you. I needed you, and you left me…”

Jane frowned. Something about the woman’s voice was even more unhinged than any other time Jane could remember. But she would worry about that later; right now, she just needed to get the situation under control. “Put your hands on your head and turn around,” Jane growled.

Shepherd’s shoulders stiffened, but she did not move to obey the order.

“Do it.”

“You won’t shoot me,” Shepherd said, her voice low and monotone. She shifted her feet and pivoted so that she was facing Jane. The left side of her mouth tilted upwards in a manic smirk. “You can’t.”

Jane tightened her grip on the gun. “Don’t make me do it, Shepherd.”

There was a moment of silence as Shepherd’s eyes darted to the still-sleeping form on the couch. Then her eyes narrowed, and her gaze snapped back up to Jane’s face. “This is all your fault!” she snarled. “All of it! My entire life… gone. And it’s all your fault!” she repeated, her voice rising to almost a screech as fury filled her face. “You--” In the next brief second, her gaze hardened, her hand dropped to the gun in her waistband, and she drew it in one smooth motion.

Smoke curled upwards towards the ceiling as the sound of a gunshot filled the room.

* * *

The two women locked eyes. Remy’s face was full of emotion, and Shepherd felt the hate rising inside of her once again. How dare Remy even think that she could pretend to care? Not now. Not after everything that she had done to destroy everything her mother had worked to build.

No.

She snarled and moved to squeeze the trigger again, even as a dozen ways to tell the younger woman this was all on her came to mind. But her muscles would not obey.

Shepherd looked down and frowned at the sight of her shirt growing dark with blood. This wasn’t right…

Looking back up to meet Remy’s gaze, Shepherd’s lip twisted up in a snarl. How could she? How _dare_ she?

Shepherd grunted and lifted her gun to aim directly for Remy’s heart. If she was going, she was taking the other woman with her. Remy had destroyed Shepherd’s entire life’s work -- the entire future of the world -- and she deserved to pay the price for it.

Another gunshot sounded with concussive force, and Shepherd felt herself being jerked backward. Her gun arm felt strangely heavy, and try as she might, she couldn’t keep it up. She tried to bring her other arm up to help, and she managed to squeeze off one bullet before another shot tore through her, this one from the opposite direction.

Things were growing hazy as Shepherd shifted her gaze to the front door to see the other two members of Weller’s team rushing in.

Then she looked back towards Remy, but her eyes caught on Kurt, who was sitting up on the couch, pain creasing his features as he pointed his weapon at her.

The hurt and confusion in his eyes rent her heart more than anything else had before. She wanted to tell him how glad she was that he was okay, reassure him that everything would now be all right, that they could fix this all.

But then darkness filled her vision and Kurt’s face faded from view for the last time.


End file.
